They kept a somewhat low profile within their HQ as they licked their wounds and reconsolidated their resources. The Strike Force of Black Ops Hunters had entered the city two days ago now, although fortunately enough hadn't bothered them, if they even knew where they were or who they were. Their ranks swelled another sixteen warriors and their families following the battle, bringing their total up to 48 plus their families, among them another eight Foundlings. However, as their Mand'alor was only just cleared by the docs to walk again as of that afternoon, their whole group knew they had little choice other than to hunker down and recover before they could move again.
However, not all of the Mando'ade sat idly in this downtime. The Mand'alor occupied himself with ensuring readiness across the board and doing wellness checks on all other wounded personnel, and his right hand man took to personally training the foundlings, all of which now had their own Beskar helmets of varying designs. He taught them everything he could and pulled from all his years of experience both as a Mandalorian and as an assassin, his goal in mind passing on the lessons and skills he'd learned to the next generation.
"Alright kids, today we'll be learning how to conduct yourselves in unarmed combat. I'll be teaching you everything there is to know, things like what, where and how to hit an opponent, and schooling you up on how to read an enemy to know best how to kill them." His statement was met with enthusiastic fidgeting from most of the kids, and the following two hours of training showed them to be both very attentive, and to be swift learners. For Ruby, however, he put more emphasis on aura training over all else, and paired her up with Mercury as the two of them had developed some good chemistry, like that of an older brother and their little sister.
Overall, it was a relaxed handful of days, although not quite for Ruby, as her training was notably harder than anyone else's upon her adoptive father's request. He wanted to get her aura back up to snuff, and he didn't care how rough he had to get with her training to ensure she'd be safe and could take care of herself. Thankfully, the girl complained little about her training, and learned quickly all the techniques taught to her. Aura training was slow, however, since her existing aura quantity and strength was so low. A byproduct of placing the seals upon her soul. If she were to eventually break any of the seals, it would require her to strengthen her aura to an absolutely absurd level, and breaking a seal at sufficient strength to handle the influx of power would dramatically boost its existing strength.
However, for now she was just a semi-normal girl with an abnormally weak aura who had a knack for everything related to being a Mandalorian. All there was to do now was wait for everyone to be in fighting condition again, and they could make their move, whatever it be. Odds were, they were just waiting for everyone to recover so they could attack Ouroboros, establish the Remnant Mandalorians as the ones who'd slain such a beast. That being said, while they'd missed their shot at the Atlesian convoy, they'd been keeping a close eye on the Beskar and were pleased enough that it was staying consolidated. The Remnant Mandalorians would have a second shot at the convoy, and it might've even been a blessing in disguise, given that while scouting out the convoy, Marcus reported that the amount of Beskar being transported was being doubled. A thousand pounds of pure Beskar. There was no beating avoiding it now, as soon as that snake was dead, they'd be reclaiming their birthright from that convoy...
"Your Signet revealed itself, Mand'alor." The Armorer spoke as she worked to forge his new armor, a Beskar copy of his old armor that had been destroyed in battle. Wordlessly the man nodded, affirming the Armorer as she continued her craft while he remained kneeling before the forge. It was not of his orders that this new armor be made, but his Lieutenant's, stating that it be unbecoming of their leader to wear anything but a full suit of pure Beskar. Despite his own preference of putting the clan first, Midnight at least understood why they were going against his orders now, so simply let them have this one. All being said, however, the signet was not a concept he was wholly knowledgeable on. Familiar, yes, but not knowledgeable. He knew that it was where many clans derived their names, but he did not necessarily know how they were earned or revealed.
He remained silent as she approached him, a small beskar icon of the massive demon he'd fought back in the cathedral's head in one hand and one of her tools for binding the metal in the other. Without a single word, the Armorer placed the icon against his right pauldron and took the tool to bind them. An electric pop filled the air every couple of seconds as she worked, eventually coming to an end as his fellow Mandalorian stood fully upright, nodding to him as she turned to face the others, even if just for a moment before returning her gaze to himself.
"You are a clan of two, you and the Child. Clan Juggernaut." She finalized, stepping away and allowing Midnight room enough to stand properly as she moved over to the rest of his armor. She'd finished all of his new equipment, with the signet being the final touch to the list of items and the first to be applied. One by one, the rest of his armor was assembled upon him, finalized by the new combat pack and twin kama being attached. Now in full beskar, Midnight looked himself up and down a few times, whistling lowly in admiration of the Armorer's fine craftsmanship.
"Thank you. I shall don this armor and wear this signet with honor." His appreciation was met with a single nod, as the Armorer stepped over to the forge and began melting a few more beskar ingots. The armor was not the last of the items meant for him to be equipped by him this day, as he was intended to receive his own beskar aura blade as well. Apparently due to the Armorer's semblance, she could see into another's soul in a clearer and more precise way than aura techniques would normally allow, which she used to craft the ideal weapons for those who'd come to her, now specifically fellow Mandalorians. She'd already used this skill on him prior to beginning the forging of his armor and signet, and had taken the time to begin preparing his scabbard during the melting and cooling process of the beskar used for his armor. It was fashioned ebony wood, smoothed out and polished before the two pieces were pressed together with the wood glue to bind it into one piece. Beskar was used for the cap on the end and the mouth of the scabbard, as well as the link attached that allowed a flat blue cord to be slotted through.
While she forged his blade, Midnight stepped aside to begin customizing his armor as it used to be, albeit replacing the white for black and adding bronze to the mix, trading purity for justice, and adding bronze to signify his high status, albeit only due to the insistence of the others. The reinforced trim of all pieces of his armor, something only now present in the new armor, he recolored to bronze while making the grays a bit lighter to better stand out, lightening the blues as well ever so slightly to match. Upon the black of his armor, he carefully set in a thin bronze floral pattern of roses, mirrored from one side to the other, as a sort of nod to his foundling, and the a sign of respect to the girl's parents who sacrificed their lives buying her time to get away. Reliability in blue, Justice in black, Mourning his lost brothers in grey, and Nobility in bronze. It did not take long, and he'd returned to the Armorer just before she needed him again to pour his aura into the blade.
"An aura blade is not something crafted painlessly, as one might often burn their hands in the process. Remove your gloves and only use a light bit of your aura to shield your hands from taking actual damage but do not attempt to ease the pain, grip the handle of the blade and when you quench it, an interrupted quench for your blade, pour all of your aura into the blade. This will imprint your soul unto the blade." The explanation was simple, and without hesitation, Midnight removed his gloves and gripped the handle of the blade in both hands. Despite the light usage of his aura as instructed, the scalding heat seared through his hands, making the Mand'alor grit his teeth and steel his resolve as he forced himself to refrain from making a sound while he plunged the straight blade into the oil to quench it. As the blade entered, he focused all of his aura into the beskar, making it glow a fiery blue glare that pierced the clay that coated the blade and the black of the oil and threatened to blind anyone who did not have any means of dimming the light before it reached their eyes, and just as three seconds elapsed, he eased the blade out of the oil, still pouring his aura into it. Three seconds in the open air, and he plunged the blade back in for three seconds more, the glare becoming almost like a star as more of his aura passed into the blade just as soon as the quenching process was complete.
With a steady hand, he pulled the blade one last time from the trough, no longer straight but with a slight curve to it. One last time to temper it properly, he quenched the blade back into the oil and poured the last of his aura into it, this time less like a glaring light and more like a hazy blue flame that coated the beskar. A silent sigh of relief passed through his mind as the Armorer took over once again, nodding for him to let go and put his gloves back on. As she withdrew the blade, he noted that the curvature had become even more apparent, although it was a somewhat subtle curve nonetheless, and the hazy blue flame had withdrawn with his hands. He'd completely drained his aura into the blade, and it admittedly left him feeling somewhat winded... and his hands mildly burned. It wasn't too much of a bother to him, but Mrs. Black immediately saw to treating his burns by using her own aura to heal the burnt flesh, drawing a thankful nod from the man.
"With the clay removed, the hamon is revealed. Congratulations, Mand'alor, your aura blade, a katana, has been successfully crafted. I shall apply the finishing touches, in the tsuka, the handle, and the tsuba, the guard, before presenting this blade to you." For several more minutes, he lied in wait, returning to his knees and patiently counting by the minutes until it was finally revealed to him. Sheathed in a midnight black saya, the blade's handle was made of oak and wrapped in black ray skin, held in place by two bamboo lynchpins that were topped off with gold decorative beskar fittings, each resembling his own facemask with crossed DC-15X behind it. It was wrapped in white silk in a twisting and turning pattern, and was capped off at the bottom with a golden engraved beskar cap as opposed to a pommel. The tsuba, or guard as it would be more commonly recognized, was normally like an oval in shape, but his was notably more ornate, being more like a hexagon in shape that split down the front and back partway in. The guard, beskar like almost all else on the blade, was black as night with a golden trim and engraved floral markings within, notably that of a rose.
The moment he took the aura blade in his own two hands, he felt a sort of connection to it, like the blade itself was alive and responding to his touch. A odd wave of familiarity set upon him, and strangely enough despite never having used such a weapon before, it felt natural in his hands. A small chuckle emerged from his lips as he tied off the sageo to the saya, and slotted it blade up through a special leather holster the Armorer had attached to his left kama. All set in place, he rose to his feet, drawing the blade from it's scabbard and gazing upon the fiery light blue aura that sheathed the blade. Even despite his own aura being drained, the blade thrummed with a life of it's own, bringing a faint smile to him that he just couldn't wipe away from under his mask.
A nod of approval was all the Armorer needed from him to step aside and start seeing to the other warriors' needs. It was an almost surreal thought, that of having a full suit of pure beskar armor, but here he was with not only his own suit that would be passed down one day, but a blade that was completely unique to him. It reminded him of what his old jedi commander had told him about her own blades, that the lightsaber and crystal of every jedi was unique to whoever crafted and wielded them...
"It's been a long time since I'd thought about her... I'd like to say the gray is just for my brothers, but..." His expression turned somewhat somber as his thoughts turned back to his time before becoming an ARC trooper. Thoughts of battles won and lost, friends and brethren fallen, and a lost love. Sighing lowly, Midnight flicked his index finger over to the same side as his thumb and twirling the blade over his middle finger to transfer the blade into an underhanded grip, setting the back of the blade over the mouth of his saya as it dropped out of its spin, drawing it forward and sliding it in just as the tip crossed over the edge and dipped into the scabbard. Dwelling on the past was a fool's errand, for he now had just over a hundred souls looking to him for guidance and direction. His eyes and mind needed to be set upon the future, and the welfare of his Remnant Mando'ade.
With all said and done here, though, he decided to leave the armorer and their new recruits be for the time being. He stall had other tasks to attend to tonight, one of them apparently being seeing to a bunch of reporters or journalists or whatever they were that had tracked them here and refused to stop pestering them. He really didn't care about the media, by all means he mostly just found them to be a nuisance, but they apparently were quite insistent on getting some answers... whether they liked his answers or not, though, would remain to be seen...
He'd collected Ruby before going to confront these news outlets or whatever they were, wrapping her in a crimson cloak and having her don her helmet before going. Apparently his Mando'ade's brief appearance and their undeniable impact on this city had made international news, and all the world was waiting with bated breath for answers. Not that he cared, of course, but he'd rather lose the spotlight sooner rather than later, so best to just answer these dweebs here and now to get them off his tail as quickly as possible. The scene that awaited him was... curious, to say the least, as Davian, Aaron, Rika and a fourth Mando all stood guard at the doors permitting access to their holdings, disruptors in full display, and their firing mode quite notably set to Rapid Fire, not that these idiots pestering them seemed to take a hint.
It was incredibly loud at the doors, with each news group yelling over the other as if trying to get a response from the four guards or gain access against their orders. However, the moment he stepped out, Midnight drew his blade and slashed at the nothingness just before him, the sudden and violent action taking everyone not of his own by shock and forcing them to reel back in fright, silencing the room in an instant. His fellow mandos just chuckled at the action, but his attention was kept on this mob of news people.
"You wanted to meet our leader? Here I am. Unless your question is actually important, I suggest you leave immediately before you evoke my wrath... now, one at a time." He leveled his blade horizontally, pointing towards the crowd as he swept back and forth with his weapon, challenging anyone to speak up first. His challenge was met after a few tense seconds of silence, as a somewhat small brown-haired girl who'd clearly had just a few too many snacks if her waist and face were any indication, stepped up with a mic and a notebook, her cameraman angling around for a better view.
"Um... y-yes, we know that you and your "Mando'ade" recently helped defend the city on two separate occasions. We are of course, thankful for your assistance, but we can't help but wonder who you'll be supporting in the upcoming election?" His gaze narrowed upon the girl, and his anger could practically be felt by everyone in the room. Without hesitation, Midnight sheathed his blade and turned Ruby over to his right arm before raising his left gauntlet on line with the girl's head. Being a well-enough recognized weapon at that point, she and her agency did well enough to scram the moment he started leveling a disintegration weapon on them. He kept his sights trained on her until she and hers were out of his sight, before pulling his forearm back, brandishing the weapon just before himself as he pivot his wrist.
"Consider the warning I gave her to apply to anyone else who asks me another stupid question. I won't give another." His declaration was met with sweating brows and an exodus of a few smaller agencies taking the hint. Those that remained were still visibly unsure of who would make the first question, but that question was soon answered, when a bald, dark-skinned man who looked to be dressed in his mid to late forties stepped up, wiping the sweat off his brow as he cleared his throat.
"Erm... Yes, hello Mand'alor, I hope the evening is treating you well. As for my question, many have been wondering just who you and yours are, as well as your intentions in the near future. Do you and your "Mando'ade" intend to stay within the city, or leave in the near future?"
"We are the sons and daughters of Mandalore. We are Mandalorians, honorable warriors without peer or equal in the art of individual combat and larger warfare. We share in the religion that is violence, as it frees us from the servitude of others and the chains emplaced upon us by civil lands. Every one of us is a sovereign entity, but I am the leader of this family. You may refer to me as Mand'alor, and nothing else." He answered the first question, bringing his left arm over to support his right in holding up Ruby's weight. "I will not speak of our intentions as they are our own secrets to keep, but we will not be remaining within the city much longer."
"If you won't say what your intents or future plans are, will you at least give some insight into the nature of them?"
"Suffice it to say that any who stand in our way will be crushed underfoot without mercy. That is all." The man simply nodded and stepped back, allowing others to possibly step up and ask their own questions. However, either all else lacked the spine to approach, or the man whom he'd just answered had spoken the question that was on all of their minds. A few tense moments passed, before eventually the news groups began to trickle out, none of them being quite brave enough to try their luck at a question after the first two.
Once all the news crews had taken their leave, Midnight turned on his heels to return back to his room with Ruby. He could only assume the only reason those leeches didn't try to inquire as to his and Ruby's relationship was that the same reason they were all so hesitant to ask any questions after the first two. Suited him just fine, if his standoffish nature made the media approach him less, then he saw it as an absolute win. At least now with the media off his tail, for the time being that is, he could focus on more pressing matters. He was all but certain that the people controlling the Grimm would try them a second time while they were here, after all, they weren't present in the last battle, and he knew it was only a matter of time before they struck again.
That being said, he was hardly concerned with that now. The last time they fought, this group, there were only six warriors among them, and they didn't have any heavy armor assets. Now they did, and he was quite honestly itching to throw down with them again. Anything of the mortal variety was honestly better than fighting friggin' demons again.
The child ended up falling asleep in his arms, and he decided against waking her simply as she needed a lot of rest at her age and the last week or so now had been extremely hectic for her. He was mostly used to the random and spontaneous crap the universe tended to throw his was at this point, so he wasn't necessarily bothered, but he knew Ruby came from a relatively cushy and carefree background, so best not push too hard right out the gate. So, while she slept in his arms, Midnight took the elevator down to the sublevels where their growing motor pool was currently staged.
His current focus was the tank, as during the battle it had reportedly taken a few hits from ATGMs and other dedicated anti-tank weapons. However, despite his concern the crew and the tank seemed relatively fine, seemingly with no major damage suffered. Rylanor had even reported 22 confirmed kills of armored assets, 16 of them being IFVs and the other 6 being full on tanks they'd engaged on the streets. A low chuckle escaped his lips as he approached the Tank Commander and his tank, looking the big bruiser up and down.
"Heard you were tearing up the field the other day, Casus." He complimented, drawing a low chuckle from the older man as he pat one of the skirts of his tank, running his hand across it as he dipped down and looked at the treads.
"Got a lotta debris in the tracks and took a few direct hits, but it'll take a helluva lot more than a few scrapes and bruises to take us outta the fight, Mand'alor." He responded in kind, turning back to Midnight a moment later and pointing back at the tank with his thumb. "Mrs. Black set us up with our new armor and weapons, The Armorer with our helmets and pauldrons. As you can see, we picked out the Pilot variant, since we felt it the most appropriate given our vehicular nature."
"Smart. Any other changes?"
"Marcus said we'll probably be replacing the main gun with a mass driver cannon, and the machineguns will probably be replaced with heavy blasters. Will take some heavy retooling and the sort, but me an my boys will be up to the task once we're on the open range of Vacuo. For now only our carbines and pistols have been traded for disruptors, though remarkably enough Miss Black managed to make them look the same as our old rifles and handguns."
"Good. Keep me posted, Tanker... although while I'm here, I've been wondering if we could incorporate your firepower into our assault on Ouroboros and later the convoy. That kind of heavy firepower would pay great dividends." Rylanor sighed lowly, tapping his foot as he looked off to the side in contemplation.
"Not Ouroboros. We lack the firepower to hurt that snake, and we aren't nimble enough to get out of dodge should it target us... but the convoy we could at least halt. I don't like the idea of firing on the same military I used to serve in, but if you can kill that stupid snake, you won't have to worry about me and my boys' loyalty, we'll follow you to the death."
"Understood. For now, keep up with the needs of your tank, we'll need it ready to roll out on a dime when the time comes." With nothing left to say, Midnight began stalking off to walk down the line. It wouldn't do to have an incomplete picture of their motor pool, he needed to know what kind of vehicles they'd be needing most in the immediate future, especially since the Beskar was only part of their goal, targeting the convoy...